The Amethyst Effect
by shydean
Summary: HS AU. A lot has changed over the summer, so much more than Dean had anticipated. But he knew one thing was for sure; he definitely does not have a crush on Cas. Nerd!Dean. Goth!Cas. Rated M for language and sexual content.
1. Contagious Chemistry

_if I could have a minute please_  
_then I'd bring you to your knees_  
_this contagious chemistry is killing me_  
_oh you'll never disappear_  
_until I give permission dear_  
_'cause you're always gonna always be knee deep, __so please_

* * *

The thing with Castiel Novak is, he's an asshole of epic proportions.

When Dean and his brother returned to Lawrence after a very long summer, that was mostly spent on the road, he was expecting to slip back into the school routine that he has built for himself over the years, same friends, same hierarchy, same ugly patterned carpets. It isn't until he had a free period later that day, he noticed not all is what it once was.

Dean sauntered into the library, heading straight for the table in the most secluded area, scanning for Jo or Michael, only to find his usual table occupied by some MCR reject. The mystery guy had raven hair, a shade too dark to be natural, he had styled it away from his face but a few locks had escaped and hung over his forehead. From where he is standing he could see he had two piercings, one ring in his lower lip, and not that Dean was staring but by the looks of it he either had a big mole or a nipple piercing. _It's a tight shirt. Anyone would look._ Dean reasons with himself. _Who the hell is this clown?_

"Are you going to stare at me all day or sit your perverted ass down?" The mystery guy's voice sounds like it's been dragged through miles of gravel, Dean tramples down the sudden fluttering in his stomach. The guy looks up from his work, raising a pierced eyebrow. His eyes are an intense blue, so blue they could be contacts if it weren't for the Clark Kent style glasses perched on his nose. _You've got to be kidding me_, his inner monologue groaned.

"Your friends left a minute ago to make out behind the bike shed." He gives an easy grin, but there's something predatory underneath it.

"Jo and _Michael,_ are you sure?" Dean sputters. This would have had to been pretty recent, it's not like either of them to keep secrets from him. Then again, a lot can change over a summer. Dean hopes they were waiting to tell him in person and not drifting away as Dean had always feared would happen.

The guy, who is still an enigma, rolls his stupidly blue eyes as if answering him is the most ridiculous thing he's heard of. Dean notices he has lined his eyes with black eyeliner, framing his ocean blue orbs as if they weren't accentuated enough. "Sit down already, will you?" He gripes.

_Stupid sexy goth ordering me around_, Dean grumbles to himself, pulling out a chair reluctantly. "Not that one, sweetheart. This one." He kicks the chair directly in front of him. Dean swallows his rude retort, choosing to do as he says in hopes of it shutting him up. "Perfect." He purrs once Dean is seated. Dean briefly wonders what he's fallen into.

"What's your name?" Dean all but demanded, this guy was starting to get under his skin, with his make-up and the black belts that he saw wrapped around the thigh of his ridiculously skinny jeans.

He doesn't answer, instead he pulls out a cigarette from his black school bag and starts patting himself down in search for, he guessed, his lighter. He slips a purple lighter from his tight jean pocket. "Do you mind?" He says, then places the cigarette in his mouth and holds the lighter up to it.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?!" Dean frantically looks around, seeing potential kindling everywhere, but blessedly no teacher. In fact it's the first time in five minutes he realises how empty this place is.

"Smoking." He take a long drag, closing his eyes in whatever kind of ecstasy it's giving him.

Dean feels a stab of annoyance at how laid back this guy is. "You can't smoke in here! Are you crazy?!" His voice breaks into an embarrassing squeak.

His eyes flicked around casually, slowly releasing the smoke from between his dry lips. "I don't see a sign" He shrugged.

"How about the guy opposite you freaking out?!"

He runs his eyes over Dean slowly, "You're cute." He remarks, tapping his ash onto the table.

This guy is infuriatingly impossible, Dean tries his best to calm down and ignore the potential fire hazard by busying himself with taking his Math work from his bag. The smell of the nicotine fog was cloying but strangely comforting.

Dean got through five equations before the cigarette was stubbed out, the blanket of smoke almost non-existent. Dean quickly glances at the guys workbook hoping for some kind of name. He resisted the urge to fist pump when he saw in cursive letters; Castiel Novak. This guy thought he was so smart avoiding Dean's questions which, now that Dean thinks about it, may have been embarrassment.

_It's a friggin' angel's name._

Dean discreetly scans Castiel, barely containing a snort at the irony, he lingers his gaze on Castiel's wrist where three black beaded and two leather plaited bracelets were wrapped around his tan skin.

"Is that many bracelets really necessary?" Dean drawls.

"Are clothes necessary?" Castiel quips, his mouth forming a sly grin.

"Uh, _yeah_, dude, I don't want to see everyone naked."

Castiel lounges back in his chair, and flicks his tongue over his lip ring, "Do you want to see me naked?" He jeers, watching Dean squirm.

Dean's brain scrambles, "Heh?"

"Well you said not everyone, so am I everyone?" Castiel says, getting some sick enjoyment from this, Dean guesses. _The nerve of this guy. _"Are you blushing, Winchester?"

Dean doesn't question how he knows his name, probably the same technique he used, maybe Dean isn't as unique in his thinking as he once thought.

"Forget it." Dean mutters, cheeks burning beyond pink.

"But how will I sleep at night?" Castiel whines, his smirk wide like a crocodile about to devour it's prey. "Okay, so you won't tell me." He sighs dramatically, "I guess I'll just have to tell you." He leans forwards as if about to reveal a secret. "Because honestly, freckles, I can't tell if I want to rip that ugly sweater off of you, or leave it on while I have my wicked way with you." Castiel's voice lowered to a growl, setting Dean on fire from the inside, flames licking up his face to the tips of his ears.

"You–!" Dean chokes on his spit.

"You're too easy, Winchester." He chuckles, collecting his work together without even a tremor, as if they were just discussing the weather.

The embarrassment he felt surged into anger, "My name is _Dean, _asshat._"_

"I know." He zips his bag closed, and stands up on slim legs, Dean tries desperately not to stare at how the fabric is clinging to his shapely thighs. _Damn it_. "So, Winchester," Castiel grins at Dean's scowl, "what's the square root of 69?" Dean frowns, confused, before Castiel reaches over to point at equation number 6, Dean notes Castiel's black nail varnish that stood out next to his crisp white paper. Cas withdraws his hand smirking, clearly enjoying himself.

The equation reads 64, but Dean and Castiel both knew that. Castiel just wanted to get a rise out of him.

"Go screw yourself." Dean says angrily, struggling to control how much he wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off his face.

"I don't think that's how 69 works." He chuckles "You're adorable." Castiel coos, tapping his nose as if he were an infant.

"Look, man, I don't know if this is your first contact with a human being but you need to back the hell off. I'm not interested." Dean fumes, shoving his stuff into his bag with an unnecessary force.

Castiel scoffs, "You think I'm interested? I'm not the one sat here blushing like a virgin."

"No one asked you to speak to me."

His tongue flicked his lip ring again, as if deliberating something. "I'm trying to figure you out." He tilts his head to the side like an owl.

Dean narrows his eyes, "Oh yeah? How's that going for you?" He says, closing his bag with a brisk pull of the zip.

"Do your friends know you cream your panties for Batman?"

The anger that burned a hole in his gut, boiled to a whole new temperature. "I– what–, no! Dude, _no_." Blood rushes to his cheeks again as he looks down at his beloved Batman sweater. "It's just a sweater. It doesn't mean anything." No one knew about Dean's nerd side, he only gets away with wearing this sweater because he can easily brush it off with something like 'I don't know, I just thought it looked cool.'

"What about the comic book in your bag? Keeping it warm for someone?"

Dean stands, grabs his bag and slings it a little harder than usual over his shoulder, "It's none of your business what I like. You're not interested, remember?" Dean snaps.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you sound disappointed." Castiel's eyes were hypnotising, the sleek black lines on each eye doing nothing but drawing Dean in. "By the way..." He leans into Dean's personal space, "Superman could kick anyone's ass. Especially that trust fund douchebag." He gives a tight grin then spins on the heel of his stupid combat boots to leave, probably knowing full well Dean's staring at his equally as hypnotising ass on the way out.

"He is _not_ a douchebag!" Dean calls out weakly, hating the smooth laughter that followed Castiel out the door.


	2. Peppermint

_(you are a disaster)  
I know you don't need to tell me_

* * *

It's the end of the week by the time Dean sees Castiel again.

A week that couldn't pass fast enough for Dean. A lot of things have changed over the summer, the weirdest of all being his so called 'best friends', who have yet to fill him in on the little fact that they're _dating. _For five days they've been avoiding him like the plague. Not to mention that suddenly the whole school was talking about the sometimes-sociable recluse Castiel Novak. Dean diverts his thoughts away from that and everything that is to do with Castiel.

At lunch Dean spots Jo by her locker, there's no surprise when he sees Michael hovering next to her. They're holding hands until they see him, then they snap back from each other, both focusing intently on Jo's locker in a poor attempt of covering up their previous actions. Dean tried to quell his incessant paranoia as he approaches.

"You can relax, guys. I know." Dean forced a good-natured smile, trying to keep his voice stable. "Not like you even tried to be subtle."

Their shoulders simultaneously tense. "About what?" Jo questions, voice a little too high but still puts on an air of calm as she pretends to browse for a book in her locker. Michael watches with dark eyes, choosing to stay silent.

"Are you kidding?" Dean bursts at their forced casualness. "You two." He pointed two fingers between them. "Together."

Jo's light brown eyes widened in fake realisation. "Oh right, _that_." She pulled a book from her locker, holding it like an awkward prop. She clears her throat loudly, Dean had known Jo long enough to know that's her lying tell. "Uh, yeah. We got a little closer over the summer, and well," She clears her throat again. "Ya' know."

No, Dean doesn't know. "Well I wouldn't know if someone hadn't told me, but it's fine; I'm sure you were just waiting for the right time." Dean says, mostly trying to convince himself that what he was saying was true.

Neither of them made a move to hold hands again, this puts Dean on edge, wondering why they're trying so hard to hide what's in plain site.

"Who told you?" Michael demands, not bothering to cover up the hostility in his voice. Dean just barely stopped himself from flinching.

"That new goth kid, Castiel." He decides to leave the last name off, not wanting to sound like he'd put effort into remembering."Eyeliner, dark clothes," _Shapely thighs_, he wants to add in, but carries on: "kind of an asshole–"

Jo cuts him off. "You've spoken with Cas?"

His ears involuntarily perk at the nickname, his mind going from naught to ninety trying to figure out how Jo knew Cas, desperately ignoring the niggling jealousy in the back of his mind which _really _shouldn't be there.

"We barely got a word out of him." Michael adds, shrugging his shoulders.

He feels the jealousy drain from him, his heart thudding at the thought of Castiel – Cas – choosing to talk to him over his cooler friends.

_It really shouldn't please me this much._ "Like I said; asshole." Dean repeats, trying to keep the smugness from his voice showing.

Michael grins, "Actually, you said 'kind of an asshole.'"

Dean's monumentally caught off guard by Michael's teasing, his mood swings are starting to give Dean a headache. "Stop changing the subject, the point is; I know. So can we please go back to some sense or normality, none of this hiding bullshit." He looks between them, sensing their reluctance. Dean feels a flash of vulnerability, if Jo and Michael don't want to put up with Dean any more, he'd be alone. And no one wants to be alone in high school.

Except maybe, Mr. Tall Dark And Creepy who Dean suddenly sees stalking out of the main doors towards the side of the building, out of sight. Probably going somewhere private to smoke. He has to bury down the urge to scoff at this thought.

Michael takes Jo's hand, the movement is almost as fake as his smile. "There's a party at mine on tomorrow night, you're welcome to come or whatever."

_Or whatever. _Which roughly translates to 'please don't'. Although, it's strange that he's invited him in the first place, parties have never really interested Dean, and Michael knows that. But some deeper part of himself wants to say yes this time, experience the cliché of the teenage years. Or to piss Michael off. _Both valid reasons,_ Dean convinces himself.

Dean forces an ingenuous grin of his own, "Awesome, see you there at– what time?"

"Seven." Michael responds tersely, hitching his bag over his shoulder. Once again, they offered Dean two false smiles before turning away abruptly; ending the conversation. Dean continues to stand there, watching them walking briskly down the hallway, probably trying to get as far from Dean as fast as possible. Dean still isn't sure what happened over the summer, if Dean didn't know any better he'd say there's something in the water. _Or they finally realised what a dork you are_, a bitter voice in his head added.

A grumble from his stomach interrupts his inner monologue. Dean places a hand on what he calls his "pie pudge", he still remembers Sam having a good laugh at that, thinking of avoiding going outside after seeing that's where Cas went earlier. Lately Dean has been eating lunch in his car, feeling sorry for himself; which is better than the second option of eating lunch in a locked cubicle. But he sure as hell doesn't want that douchebag seeing him have a pity party. Then again, Dean was really looking forward to that slice of cherry pie...

_Screw it_, Dean decides_, no one comes between me and pie_.

* * *

Once outside Dean immediately regrets his decision. But regret is soon replaced by a rage that Dean could only ever feel about one thing.

"Get off my baby!" Dean cries, rushing forward. He frantically looks over the car, circling the vehicle, checking for any scratches on the paint. Thankfully there was no outward signs of damage. Dean's about to let out a sigh of relief, but then he remembers who's sat on the hood of his baby, and walks around angrily to the smirking figure leant against his baby's bonnet, a trail of smoke rising from his cigarette.

"This is your car?" He asks nonchalantly, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing little O's into the air. Dean would have punched anyone else in the face, but something about Cas shook him to his core, and made him hyper-aware of himself.

If Dean was honest with himself, he'd admit there was a small spark of hope that he'd find Cas out here. All Dean had felt lately is lonely, so even the company of this sarcastic asshole was something he would willingly welcome.

And yet, Dean can't help but get riled up at his obvious provocation. "You know it is, dickbag. Seriously, get the hell off her."

Cas shot off the bonnet, putting on an elaborate show of concern. "Ever so sorry, Ma'am. I didn't know this seat was being saved for your boyfriend." He rolls his eyes in the usual Cas fashion when he's done, looking at Dean with a Cheshire Cat grin. Cas' eyes looked as if they were alight with blue flames, maybe it was because he's chosen to wear electric blue eyeliner today. Or that his face looks a little empty without glasses. Not that Dean was paying attention to those details or anything. Or really liked those glasses. Nope.

Dean quickly looks him over, eyes trailing down his body slowly; he's wearing a long black coat that reaches his ankles, the sleeves are donned with buckles and a few thin chains. Cas smirks at Dean's poor ability of discreetly checking him out, and drags his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, catching slightly on his lip piercing.

"What's with the creeper coat?" Dean jibes, following the movement of Cas' tongue, attempting to mask the fact he would love nothing more than to get him out of that ridiculous coat, so he could see his slim but toned body. Dean internally berates himself for even wishing it.

"A creeper coat for a creeper guy. After all, that _is_ why you're sweating, right?" Cas leers, bringing his handsome face closer than necessary. He smells like nicotine, peppermint and sin. "Scared of being alone with me, Winchester?" He whispers, the smirk still ghosting at his lips.

"You have an ego-complex, man." Dean says nervously, laughing it off. He wasn't sweating _that_ much.

"You're the one stroking it." Cas chuckles, something darker passes across his eyes when he adds, "In more ways than one."

Dean's heart thuds so hard he's pretty sure it cracked a rib. "What's that supposed to mean?!" His ears burned at the image of Cas thinking about him while jerking off.

Cas ignores him and taps his ash to the floor, "Michael has a party this weekend, a welcome back to school party of sorts, you goin'?" His face is calm but he can see the mirth that held on his his stupidly blue eyes.

Dean clenches his hand into a fist, barely restraining himself from doing something stupid. He wonders if mood swings is contagious and Dean is the only one immune. And for some reason the sound of Michael's name coming from Cas' lips makes him feel as though he's swallowed acid, his stomach churns unhappily with what Dean can only assume is jealousy.

"Yeah, of course." Dean confirms, voice coming out a little strained, pretending he wasn't suffering from inner turmoil. "He's my friend, so why wouldn't I be going?" He feels the need to add, immediately regretting it when Cas' pierced eyebrow twitched in surprise.

"A little defensive, aren't we? Are you always this wound up?" He takes a short drag, lips pursed around the ever shrinking cigarette and blows it slowly into Dean's blushing face. "I'd love to unravel you." Cas murmurs, faint wisps of smoke still escaping his mouth. "Piece. By. Piece."

"Shut up." Dean snaps, waving his hand in the air to dispel of the smoke. He wasn't in the mood for these games that everyone seems to enjoy playing with him.

"It's funny you say that... yet _you're_ the one who seeks me out and _you're_ the one who's still standing here after everything I've said. Honestly, your mixed signals are giving me whiplash." Cas chuckles dryly, as if he wasn't the one who's currently perched on his car. "Unless whipping is your kind of thing, then I can learn to like it." He winks, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Dean feels his head spin, and his fading blush rushing back into his cheeks. "That's not even the same thing. You say I give mixed signals? Who's the one sat on _my _car right now? You're the one who's got their wires crossed."

Cas hums, glancing down at his cigarette and lets it fall from long fingers before stomping it out with his boot. He leans close to Dean, his hair flopping over his forehead, which Dean finds oddly endearing. "You're acting very interested in me, Winchester."

Dean steps away, needing to gain some control back as Cas' face gets that little bit too close for comfort. "Wh-where are you getting this from? Me arguing with you?" Dean stammers, trying to come up with something witty to finish with. "Does this get your goth ass off or something?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Cas states; it's not a question and doesn't leave Dean time to answer before he's raking his eyes across Dean's chest, admiring his forest green sweater without a hint of bashfulness. "Green." He shakes his head softly. "So much better than your last choice." another grin on his face showed he was just waiting for Dean to react.

"You're infuriating." Dean sighs, feeling drained and starving for the pie he's not going to have time to eat.

Cas shrugs one shoulder in a 'suit yourself' gesture. "I'll look for you at the party."

"You're not going to stand me up are you?" Dean laughs, the sound a little awkward while his heart is doing front-flips in his chest.

"I would _never._" Cas gasps, eyes going comically wide.

"Right." Dean scoffs.

"I'm serious." If Dean didn't know Cas, he would say he was hurt, but unfortunately he _does _know Cas, so he doesn't bother holding back his eye roll.

"You don't believe me?" Cas smirks and then licks his lip piercing, a habit Dean notes. He rolls up a sleeve of his long coat to reveal the bracelets he saw last time. Cas undoes a thin leather braided one and grabs Dean's wrist, tugging him forward forcefully.

Dean stumbles forward stupidly, praying Cas doesn't feel his erratic pulse in his wrist; but judging by Cas' idle grin, he already knows. Cas tugs his sweater to alert him that he's finished.

"Now I have another reason to come find you." He winks, releasing Dean's sweater, then makes a turn to leave. "See you at the party, freckles." He calls over his shoulder, throwing his hand up in the air in a half-assed attempt at a wave good bye.

Dean's starting to notice that Cas also has a habit of leaving him struck stupid and mind blank. He admires the new weight on his wrist, smiling softly.

Yeah, he's got it bad.

* * *

**A/N: A big thank you to my lovely beta; Alice.**


	3. Little Death

_I feel lonely when you disown me, my friends_  
_you say used to know me then  
now my body's under_

* * *

Dean regrets going to the party almost as soon as he steps foot into the house.

If Dean hadn't been to Michael's house twice before, he would never of recognised the previously white-wash walls and ugly brown carpet which was now covered in God knows what and littered with beer bottles and plastic cups. It also didn't help that there were people _everywhere_ and he's pretty sure that Michael doesn't even know this many people; Dean takes a guess that half of them don't even go to his school.

He wonders if he should have even bothered showering a little longer and staring at his reflection in a foggy mirror for an extra ten minutes when he a few more steps out of the hallway and into the what would normally be the living room, except for tonight it had been converted into the dance floor.

Dean was hit with the smell of sweat and alcohol, his nostrils burning as he almost turns around to leave before remembering why he even came here in the first place; an image of blue eyes framed with black eyeliner flashes through his mind. He shakes the thought away and pushes through the closely packed living room, having spotted the kitchen.

As he gets closer, he is surprised at how empty it is aside from one person; who Dean notices, as he knocks shoulders with a girl trying to get past, is Jo.

He sighs in relief as he finally tumbles through the door way, shutting the door behind him and listening as the music turns into a dull thud. When Dean's eyes adjust to the bright light, a complete contrast from the almost pitch black living room, he realises that Jo's demeanour is as far from party-mode as anyone could get. Her arms are crossed over his stomach, slightly hunching over in on herself and her cheeks flushed with red-rimmed eyes like she had been crying.

"Jo?" Dean asks, shuffling forward to cautiously put his hand on her slumped shoulder.

She jumps, obviously taken by surprise, and hastily scrubs her face with her shaking hands. "What?" She snaps.

"Are you-" _Okay_, he almost says. But stops abruptly when he sees she most certainly is _not_. "Uh, do you want me to get you anything?" He supplies instead.

Jo sniffs, her hands drop to her sides and clench into fists. "No, no. Just go. I'll be fine." She insists, and yet refusing to meet his gaze.

Dean doesn't buy it, but he shrugs it off. He can barely deal with his _own_ emotions let alone comfort his distraught... friend, he should probably say, but he's still confused about where he stands with her and Michael. Speaking of...

"Have you seen Michael?" Dean asks, wondering why the host isn't at his own party or with his upset 'girlfriend'.

"He's, uh," Jo begins, cheeks changing from a faint pink to a brighter red and turns around to face the counter. "Upstairs." She finishes quietly, while methodically opening two beers, passing one to him and taking a long gulp from the other.

That could mean a number of things, but based on Jo's reaction it's the first thing anyone would think of when someone excuses themselves from a party. "I thought you two..." Dean trails off, bringing to beer closer to his lips, not sure how to broach the subject without making her more upset.

"We were." Jo answers sadly. Dean waits for her to continue, taking a hesitant sip of the cold beverage, "Well, kind of." She picks at the label on the bottle, cheeks settling down to a more natural colour. "Not really." She says weakly, placing the bottle back on the counter, shoulders hunching forward again.

Dean stands there silently for a moment, feeling the harsh beats of the music vibrate through his body as he tries frantically to think of something comforting to say, "Oh." Was the best his brain could offer. Dean's own beer is slowly warming in his hand; the condensation making his palms wet. If he remembers rightly, beer tastes like someone has drained sweat into a bottle with an added extra of bitter. He tries not to notice the taste as he takes another quick swig.

Jo gives a frustrated sigh, her head suddenly whipping round to finally meet Dean's concerned gaze, "Why did you even come here, Dean? No one–"

"Wants me here." Dean finishes, smothering his hurt with anger. "Believe me, _I know_." He takes four long gulps of his drink, resisting the urge to grimace.

"If you knew, then why come?" She fumes, channelling her anger from Michael at Dean.

"I wish I knew." Dean replies bluntly, glancing down as if to focus on his bottle, but really it's to look at the reason why he came here. A reason he's not willing to share with anyone. Not even himself. Cas' bracelet is still wrapped comfortably around his wrist. Dean hasn't taken it off in the past 24 hours.

_I just didn't want to lose it, _Dean assures himself, _it doesn't mean anything. We're... friends or something? _He looks back up at Jo before she starts wondering why he's staring at a bracelet like a lovesick idiot.

"Whatever. Have you seen Castiel anywhere?" Dean throws in casually, as if his heart wasn't about to leap out his throat. Cas was an asshole sometimes – _all the time, _his brain corrects him – but he would break such a simple promise, would he?

Jo narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Why are you hanging around that d-bag? All he does is smoke and sneer at people like they're beneath him." She takes a step closer, invading Dean's personal bubble. "_Are_ _you smoking_ _now_?"

Dean takes a step back, frustrated with her sudden interest. "I don't have time for this. Answer my question, Jo."

She huffs as if _he's_ being the unreasonable one. "He stalked through here about 10 minutes ago." She jerks her chin towards the back door. "He's outside." Jo bites her lip as if deciding something, eyes focusing now on the wall behind Dean, "Hey, uh, you probably don't want my input here, but be careful. Whatever you're doing with him, just–" She shakes her head, her eyes closely briefly before opening again, "Be careful." Her eyes slide back to Dean's, before grabbing her beer and yanking the kitchen door open, the heavy bass floods back into the room as Jo disappears into the crowd.

Dean lets out a breath he didn't know he was even holding, feeling an oncoming headache as the music pounds and echoes around the kitchen along with a flood of new questions. When did his life become a high school drama? Right now, Jo was as much an enigma as Cas, one minute she's angry at him for being here, the next she's concerned for his well-being. Dean feels uncertain as to who the real bad guy is here.

He puts those feelings aside while grabbing another beer, hoping it will calm his nerves. He places the bottle on the kitchen counter once it's half empty and walks outside on shaky legs. The garden is illuminated by the pool lights; a few people dotted around the side, and a random girl throwing up into the bushes. He doesn't recognise any of them. Except for the dark silhouette casually leant against the wall at the far end of the garden. Dean has never been so relieved to see Cas before.

Cas' back is pressed to the brick wall, head tipped upwards as if to count the stars, his hands surprisingly absent of a half finished cigarette. Dean almost misses it.

Cas has his eyes closed when Dean approaches, but by his sly smirk slowly appearing on his face, Dean's arrival was not unnoticed.

"You telepathically calling your vampire buddies?" Dean greets, attempting to play cool and collected, silently praying Cas doesn't realise he is neither of those things.

Cas breathes a laugh through his nose, and his smirk twitches in amusement. "Actually," He says, voice barely above a whisper, "I was just imaging how far that blush of yours goes down."

"Is that fancy talk for imaging me naked?" He gives a strangled laugh, feeling clumsy with his words.

Cas' eyes open suddenly in shock, and Dean feels his heart thud in his chest by how many different shades of blue and other colours he can see in the irises. The side of his face is lit by the refection of the pool, creating a shadow across his features. His eyes were decorated with basic black today, the lines a little thinner than usual, and his creeper coat hung over his body looking too heavy to be anywhere close to comfortable.

He morphs his shock into a mock pout. "You've taken all the fun out of it." He whines. "I–" Cas cuts off suddenly, his eyes intent on Dean's chest, or more specifically, his Superman sweater. "Are you fucking kidding me, Winchester?" his pierced eyebrow raising.

Dean's spine tingles with excitement. His cheeks starting to rapidly warm up, the heat running up to the tips of his ears and down his neck. "Uh." is Dean's genius response.

Cas inhales deeply, probably trying to calm himself down. Dean's inner self does a victory dance at finally ruffling Cas' feathers rather than the other way round.

The people that were just loitering around the pool side wandered back inside when a light rain started to fall, the silent _pitter patter _hitting the paved garden and changing the pale slabs to a grey colour. The girl who was puking in the bushes earlier had passed out on one of the lawn chairs, oblivious to the sudden weather change.

"It's raining." Dean states dumbly. He waits for Cas to reply with '_no shit_', but Dean should know better by now than to predict what Cas will say or do next.

"Do you have my bracelet?" Cas asks instead, but before Dean can even open his mouth to answer, Cas reaches for his wrist; his thumb slides under the sweater sleeve. He strokes his thumb over the soft skin of Dean's wrist. Dean doesn't dare breathe, his heart thuds in his ears. Dean slowly looks up to meet Cas' gaze and sees the smirk forming on his face again as he's yanked forward, causing him to let out a harsh breath in surprise.

Cas grabs Dean's other wrist and guides them underneath his coat, pulling him into the warmth of Cas' body. He gives an involuntary sigh of content when their chests touch. Every thought flies from his mind, all he can think of is Cas' heat radiating through his already thick jumper; the feel of it making him feel like he's on fire. And damn it, he _likes _this. He likes the way their bodies are pressed up against each other; chests touching and breathes mingling together.

Dean's only an inch taller or so, standing toe-to-toe with him brings them both to eye level.

The rain falls in heavier sheets than a few moments ago, Dean barely acknowledges it as Cas' arms settle around his waist, his hand slipping under his sweater to slowly stroke the bottom of his spine. A shiver makes its way through his body, but it's not from the rain, and by Cas' cheeky grin he knows that too. Cas rests his forehead on Dean's, bringing him closer than they were before. Dean's forgotten every bodily function by then, only running on basic instinct; which was admittedly poor by normal standards.

He places his hands on Cas' back, feeling his defined muscles through his t-shirt as he clings as close as he can. The rain falls in the small space between them, dripping down their faces, Cas' eyeliner is obviously water resistant because the dark lines are still framing his eyes instead of creating watery smudges down his cheeks.

Neither of them make a move towards better shelter.

Finally Dean remembers to breathe and vaguely remembers the question Cas had asked. "Y-your bracelet?" Dean reminds him weakly, cringing inwardly at his slight stutter and pushes down the urge to inhale as much of Cas' scent as he can. It's almost an aphrodisiac.

Cas runs his tongue over his lip piercing, catching Dean's lower lip in the process. "Keep it." He whispers with hooded eyes. Dean inhales sharply, feeling the warm slide of it against his own lips and feels daring when he flicks his own tongue out to give Cas' piercing a tentative lick. Something twists in his stomach when he hears Cas breath out roughly, "Dean."

This is the first time Cas has ever used his name; not a stupid nickname or his last name.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest willing him to do something. _Anything_. To get closer to him, to be consumed by everything that is Cas. _Oh God, Cas._

Cas licks the rain water from the corner of his mouth and digs his fingernails ever so slightly into Dean's skin. Dean feels his stomach twist again and a quiet moan escapes his lips as he arches his back a little; pushing their chests together impossibly more. Dean tilts his head forward slightly in return, by sucking the water from Cas' bottom lip, sinking his teeth into it slightly before pulling back.

"Are you sure?" Dean just barely musters up the breath to ask this; eyes focused on Cas' now noticeable swollen lip. Cas gives a low hum as an answer, before swiping his tongue again by the side of Dean's mouth; barely grazing his lips. Dean starts to feel light headed and can feel the pulse of Cas' heart against his chest.

"Nice lips, princess." Cas chuckles quietly, the noise breathy and strained and removes his forehead from Dean's to lean backwards.

Awareness seeps back into his brain, making him notice how tight the space is between them. Someone would need to have a crowbar to separate Dean from Cas right now.

Rain pelts down on top of them, running down the back of his neck to Cas' hand which is still placed at the base of his spine. "I could say the same to you." Dean counters, his words sluggish. He's still disorientated from whatever the hell just happened. It was more licking the rain from each other than actually kissing, right? Somehow this doesn't make him feel any better.

Cas brings his lips to Dean's ear, his warm breath fanning against his neck. "Did you drive here?" He asks, his voice low and rough.

"No." Dean replies, ignoring how a ripple of goose bumps make its way across his skin, silently angry at his past self. "I-I've been drinking anyway. It's fine, I can walk." _If my legs still work_.

"You can come back to my place. I'm pretty sure I live closer to here than you do." He gives a devilish grin, that promises nothing short of sin.

The downpour had soaked both of them by now, both their hair plastered against their foreheads, which fuelled his decision to agree. He didn't want to stand out in the rain any longer. And maybe because a deeper part of him wanted to continue what had just happened somewhere more private.

Cas has well and truly corrupted him. But it's hard to care when Cas looks him over with a rare soft smile, his vivid blue eyes seeming less harsh than usual. Cas takes a step back, both of their hands dropping to their sides. Instead, Cas grabs the arm of his soaking sweater to lead him away from the long forgotten party.

"You better not be wearing Batman underwear, Winchester." He looks over his shoulder to look at Dean trailing behind, his smirk erasing the innocent smile from before. "Or I'll have to punish you." Cas taunts, his eyes bright and full of mischief.

Dean runs the rest of the way.


	4. Flaws

_you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_  
_and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_

* * *

It turns out that Cas lives opposite Michael. Not a house on a recluse hill in Transylvania like Dean had thought.

In fact, it's the perfect stereotype of suburbia. A lush green lawn, flowers that were well tended, sprinklers and — _no way_— a goddamn white picket fence. This is so far from the gloomy castle with a moat that Dean had in mind.

They run to the front door, eager to get out of the downpour. "This is _your_ house?" Dean says in disbelief, staring hard at the picket fence that borders the front lawn as if it were wearing a disguise. Dean sees something pink in his peripheral vision, he almost laughs out loud when he sees Cas has a fucking plastic flamingo stood up on his front lawn.

The sound of Cas unlocking the door snaps him out of his awed stare. "No. I'm taking you into the closest house I could find." Cas drawls sarcastically. He wipes his boots briskly on the welcome mat, and casually throws his keys into the bowl by the door. They make a long clank sound that echoes through the quiet house.

Dean promptly ignores that last remark, "It's… lighter than I expected." He says as he step over the threshold, scuffing his dirty Converses on the mat. Dean shuts the door behind him and studies his surroundings. Besides the unpacked boxes piled up in the living room, everything is so… _normal._

Cas gives a snort, which admittedly is damn adorable."You think I can be bothered to redecorate? We haven't even unpacked everything." He tugs his long heavy coat off, and sloppily chucks it over the banister.

"We?" Dean asks in a tone he hopes comes across lightly, not wanting to spook Cas away from talking about his private life.

"My brother and I." Cas says shortly, as usual not willing to elaborate.

By now Dean has learnt that Cas isn't one for long answers, instead favouring a sarcastic remark or a mocking smirk. So Dean drops the subject with an offhand; "Oh. Cool."

Cas pulls Dean, almost roughly, by his rain soaked sweater, and gives a predatory smile. "Mmm." Cas hums, pulling Dean towards the stairs. Normally Dean would complain about the grabbing, worried that Cas might stretch his sweater too far and tear it. However Dean can barely concentrate on his breathing right now, let alone his stupid Superman sweater.

Dean gulps, and his brain scrambles for something to say. "Do you, uh―"

Cas' wolfish grin widens as he stops at the bottom of the stairs to pull Dean closer. His lip ring brushes lightly over Dean's trembling lips. His voice dropping an octave when he says intimately against Dean's mouth, "Is this your idea of dirty talk? Because I've gotta say, it needs some work." Cas' arm winds around Dean's waist, his thumb brushing the exposed skin of Dean's hip. They weren't even near the bedroom yet and Dean's face already felt as if it were on fire.

"I―"

"Shh." Cas hushes. His blue eyes playful when he purrs, "This way, princess."

Dean suddenly snaps out of his flustered state with a flash of annoyance. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that?" He gripes, pulling back from Cas' wandering hand and mesmerising stare.

Cas' mouth quirks at the corners, not quite a smile. He brings his elegant hands up to cup Dean's jaw, his thumbs resting behind Dean's ears, stroking the soft hair there. "Not unless you lose those pretty eyes of yours." Cas' wolfish grin returns as Dean's ears burn.

"Shut up. I have manly eyes." Dean protests indignantly. "Like you can talk, _Sapphire Barbie_." He retaliates, mentally fist bumping himself.

Cas gives a nod of appreciation. "Good one."

Dean's hand is claimed again by Cas' as he leads him up the stairs. Dean feels his heart beat in the time of each step he takes. Cas is _holding his hand_. Their palms are_touching_. Fingers locked together in a firm hopes Cas doesn't notice his hands starting to sweat, but judging by Cas giving his hand a quick squeeze of reassurance, he noticed. Any other time Dean would be taken back by the gesture, but the squeeze has the opposite affect than intended. It doesn't bring him anywhere close to calming down; if anything, he's pretty sure he's very close to swooning.

_Swooning._ His mind snorts. _Oh God_, _Cas is _right_. You're such a princess._

Cas leads him down the hallway and comes to a halt in front of the last door, Dean buries his disappointment when Cas releases his hand. If Cas could show any feeling other than sarcastic or sexually suggestive, Dean would say he looked nervous as he opens the door to his bedroom. But this is _Cas_. He practically exudes confidence.

Dean tentatively follows him inside, blinking when Cas flips on the bedside lamp."This is more like I'd imagined." Dean laughs lightly, not wanting to seem like he was laughing _at_ Cas.

The wall opposite the window is painted a deep purple, almost black. Dean presumes the other walls are left as their natural cream colour so the purple isn't so oppressive. Above Cas' headboard are about a dozen posters of bands Dean has never heard of. Dean's more of a classic rock guy himself, but he wasn't opposed to listening to some heavy metal if Cas ever asked.

His faces warms for the hundredth time today as he looks over Cas' very inviting double bed. "Where's the coffin?" Dean says, covering his nerves with poorly executed humour.

Cas shuts the door, kicking off his wet boots as he smoothly replies, "You've thought about my bedroom, Winchester?"

"Uh." Dean internally fumbles for a witty remark. "No?" He blatantly lies.

Cas shakes his head to himself like Dean is an adorable puppy. He saunters over to Dean going straight to the bottom of his soaked sweater, curling his fingers over the fabric and tugging upwards in request. Dean complies by raising his arms, his sweater is yanked over his head and discarded to the soft carpeted floor. He suddenly feels very naked in a semi-wet t-shirt and soaked through jeans. Feeling as if every angle of him is highlighted by his sopping clothes.

Dean catches his reflection in the mirror atop Cas' dresser. His cheeks are bright pink as well as his ears. His hair is all over the place from the rain and Cas' wandering fingers. His lips are slightly puffy from their earlier kissing-but-not-really-kissing. Dean looks well and truly wrecked. And he hasn't even sat on the bed yet.

Cas' quiet sigh snaps Dean's attention back to the matters at hand. He hides his shaking hands in the front pockets of his cold and wet jeans.

"Calm down. You're acting like I'm some evil melodrama villain about to steal your virtue." Cas' eyes darken, the eyeliner framing them makes him look almost menacing. "Despite what you may think of me, that's not my style."

This is the first time Cas has outwardly shown his hurt. Dean would feel like he'd accomplished something, if he didn't already feel like utter shit for upsetting Cas.

"That's not―!" Dean sighs roughly, removing his hands from his pockets and dragging them frustratedly through his hair. "Cas, this is…" He focuses anywhere but Cas' vivid eyes. Dean clears his throat and continues, "I've never… you know." He waves his hand in an empty gesture. "Done _this_." He finishes meekly. Dean looks down, very interested in the comforters design all of a sudden.

Cas pads over to stand in front of Dean. He tenses when Cas pushes him to lie back and straddles him. Dean's heart races, his pulse so loud in his ears he can barely hear himself think. Cas leans forward and rests his hands on the comforter at either side of Dean's neck.

His dark hair flops over his forehead, curled at the tips from the rain. "We're not going to do anything you're not comfortable with." Cas murmurs, placing a kiss on Dean's neck, over his thudding pulse.

Dean releases a ragged breath, and relaxes his muscles. "O-okay."

"Hey." Cas whispers. "Look at me." His fingers smooth over Dean's jaw, tilting it to face him. Cas gives a small, barely there, smile and Dean's cheeks and dick fill with blood. He barely has any blood left to supply his brain at this point.

Dean internally berates himself for blushing when all Cas did was _smile_ at him. Even thought it was unusually sweet and genuine. Cas abruptly leans away from him, and Dean whimpers at the lose of Cas' body from his.

For a moment Dean thinks he's messed this up already, but feels a rush of relief when he realises Cas was just moving them further up the bed. "I want my princess to be comfortable, don't I?" Cas smirks, knowing exactly what buttons to push to get a rise out of him.

If it were 10 minutes ago, Dean would have taken the bait but in this moment all he could think about how deliciously heavy Cas' body is on top of his. "W-what should I do?" Dean stammers, unsure where to put his hands, making it glaringly obvious how inexperienced he is.

Cas chuckles and replies with a rough growl; "Pray."

Dean tries not to give Cas the satisfaction of blushing, and hesitantly reaches under the back of Cas' shirt, feeling the contours of Cas' soft skin under his fingertips. Cas shudders and groans, bringing his mouth to Dean's in a desperate kiss. Cas' lip piercing is cold at first but soon warmed by Dean's wet licks and sucking on his mouth.

Dean breaks the kiss so he can fully remove Cas' shirt, once it's discarded blindly over the side of the bed, Dean grasps the back of Cas' neck to pull him back in for more. Cas stops halfway and gives a predatory grin. He reaches for Dean's waist, just about to pull his shirt up and off when Dean's confidence falters and shoots a hand out to stop him.

Cas pouts, "Shirt for shirt?" He tilts his head adorably to one side. "What're you hiding under those ugly sweaters, Winchester?" He sighs dreamily. "I bet you have freckles all over."

"Trust me there is _not _much to see, just, uh, ignore it." Dean distracts him momentarily by reaching up to suck on Cas' neck, but Cas is having none of it.

He gently pushes Dean back down to the pillow, blue eyes worriedly searching his. "Dean, what's going on?"

Dean breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the three small moles at the base of Cas' neck. "I just— _c'mon_, Cas." He huffs. "Look at you. All toned and—." _Perfect_, he almost adds but refrains from fear of sounding ridiculous. "You know." He finishes lamely instead.

"I'm not exactly a body builder, Winchester." Cas squints. "Is this about your cute little belly?" His grins crookedly and quickly reaches under Dean's shirt to tickle him. Dean's never seen Cas so openly playful, but he's never wanted to kick him in the face more than right now.

"S-stop! Cas, fucking hell you—." He breaks off into a fit of giggles, until he finally manages to remove Cas' wriggling hands. Dean catches his breath, watching Cas above him cautiously.

"How d'you know?" He asks quietly.

Cas sighs. "I have eyes, Dean." He starts to lift Dean's shirt up again, this time without Dean's protests. His shirt quickly joins Cas' on the floor. Cas catches Dean's arms before they can conceal his body from view.

They take a while to drink each other in. Dean ignores the niggling in the back of his mind that tells him to cover his stomach from Cas' vision, but it's a little hard when Cas' hands are holding his wrists to the bed. So Dean distracts himself by cataloging as much as he can of Cas' body. He has an athletic build that looks like it could endure miles upon miles of running. Or a night of wild sex. Maybe even both. In the light of the bedside lamp Dean sees something that makes his heart stop.

Cas' right nipple is pierced. Just as he suspected that day not so long ago in the library. The silver spike glinted in the light, as if winking at him as an invitation to taste. Dean's pulled out of his trance by Cas' dark chuckle. "Easy there, freckles." He slowly smooth his hands up Dean's arms. "Don't want you coming just yet." He winks.

_Bastard_.

Dean retaliates by lightly raking his nails down Cas' back, but it only widens his smirk.

"Mmm, you're just full of surprises aren't you?" Cas whispers sinisterly, kissing a wet path along his jaw, biting and licking his way to Dean's ear. He shivers when Cas nips at his ear, a rush of heat flows south and Dean's embarrassingly close to coming. Dean desperately tries to centre himself by gripping Cas' shoulders. "Harder, kitten. I'm not going to break." Cas rasps. Dean blushes but complies. Cas' gravelly moan brings Dean's dick to full attention, straining uncomfortably against his zipper. Cas' hips jerk forward and Dean can feel he's in a very similar situation.

Cas dips his head to capture Dean's neck with a rough bite that he is sure will leave a big mark. Dean groans and squeezes his eyes shut at the sharp pleasure, clinging to Cas' back; digging his nails into Cas' supple skin. He feels the brush of wet heat against his nipple. Cas takes his time licking circles around it, arousing him to fever pitch. Opening his eyes, he tangled a hand in Cas' wavy hair, gripping the strands a little too roughly. Dean's about to apologize but is cut off by a strangled groan.

Dean tugs again to signal he wants Cas to come back up, surprisingly he acknowledges the movement and glides his lips and tongue towards Dean's neck again. Slowly dragging his mouth to Dean's lips, dipping his tongue between the seal quickly before merging their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss. Dean's mind is buzzing, clouded from any other thought except _Cas. _He moves a hand to the back of Cas' skull, cradling him close, scared the fog will clear and this would have all been a dream.

His kisses turn desperate, ravaging at Cas' plump mouth. Urgently tasting as much of him as he can before they pull away for air. Dean boldly slips his other hand down to Cas' ass, giving it a firm squeeze. He uses the same hand to push Cas' hips into his, "Dean— _ung_ _God—_!" Cas gasps as he pulls back, in the low light Dean can see his pupils are dilated and his wavy hair is flicked up in random places, looking thoroughly debauched. Dean's lips sting from their fierce kiss, he can still feel the imprint from Cas' lip ring. His dick aches from being denied release, they haven't even properly touched yet and Dean's ready to explode.

Cas watches him with hooded eyes as he rearranges himself so that he's knelt between Dean's legs. He rests a hand on his thigh, and leans over to lick along Dean's stomach, very close to his waistband. Dean feels a wave of uncertainty. He wants to throw Cas off and put his shirt back on, but the look in Cas' eyes was nothing less than worship, so he resists as best as he can.

"I knew you'd have freckles all over." Cas' voice is warm and rough, he traces his lips over the rise of his stomach. "My very own constellation." He goes back over the trail he made but this time with his tongue.

Dean swallows back the stupidest thing he could ever say; instead choosing to let out a ragged breath that whispers, "Cas." Because that's all he can concentrate on right now.

"Yes?" Cas gives a sinful smile that somehow looks innocent at the same time, well, it would if he wasn't currently unzipping Dean's jeans. "Oh fucking hell, _really_?" Cas cried in disbelief, shattering every thought in Dean's head and replacing them with panic. Dean's face feels like it's about to burst into flames, disappointment sets in his gut and embarrassment consumes him.

Dean's silently berating himself with every down-putting word he can think of because he's not good enough for Cas, all this was set up to humiliate him. Dean's ready to shoot off the bed and leave; t-shirt be damned. The snap of his underwear brings him out of his down-spiral, forcing himself to meet Cas' amused gaze.

"Winchester, what the fuck is this?" Cas gestures to his tented boxer-briefs. Dean leans up onto his elbows and immediately sees what all the fuss is about.

He was wearing his favourite Batman underwear.

Dean grins sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder. Cas runs his tongue over his lip ring in habit and slowly shakes his head like he can't believe what he's seeing. Cas has a look in his eye that makes Dean believe he's going to pay for this later.

All of Dean's humiliation drains away and is quickly replaced by urgent wanting again as Cas unzips his own jeans, and pulls away from Dean so he can fully remove them. Dean tries not to stare like the wide-eyed virgin he is at the bulge that is confined in tight, black briefs; he fails. Cas notices his intimidated stare and gives a soft reassuring smile in return. He goes back to kneeling in between Dean's legs, not that it's difficult to do that with his bowlegs.

Cas leans over and Dean pushes himself up so he can meet him halfway for a searing kiss. It's wet and sloppy, but Dean keeps his lips sealed over Cas', savouring every filthy swipe of his tongue. Cas pulls back first, his bee-stung lips slick with saliva. He jerks at Dean's waistband indicating he wants them off.

_You and me both. _Dean thinks, eager to get the clinging fabric away from his skin.

They're now both free of clothes except for underwear, but there's trepidation coiling in his gut that warns him he's not ready for anything more yet. Cas must sense Dean's sudden panic and smiles gently. "It's okay, Dean. We don't have to." He places a sweet kiss against Dean's forehead, and another on the end of his nose. Cas rearranges himself again so he's straddling Dean like earlier.

Dean doesn't want this to end just yet, his dick is still begging him for some kind of release. Dean's face flushes at the thought of what he's going to do next. Swallowing hard, he reaches out to Cas' angular hips and brings his heat towards his erection, grinding them together. Cas' eyes widen briefly at Dean's burst of brazenness, he steadies himself and pushes Dean to lie back again.

Sighing with pleasure Cas rocks slowly over Dean's cock, warmth curls at the base of his spine, and sweat start to prick at his skin. Heat consumes Dean from head to toe and he doesn't want it to stop, he wants to bask in it, absorb as much as he can. He tightens his grasp on Cas' hips and croaks, "Holy _shit_."

Cas' gentle smile from earlier is erased and replaced with his usual predatory grin, Dean whimpers as Cas ruts against him faster and harder. His dick starts to leak pre-cum, and his lower abdomen tightens with a burning pleasure telling Dean that he's already close. He slides his hands into Cas' now sweaty hair, urging him towards Dean. Cas complies and captures Dean's mouth in a rough kiss where their teeth clack together and their tongues fight for dominance. A bit of drool escapes his mouth but he can't find it in himself to care. He traces Cas' bottom lip with his tongue, paying extra attention to his lip ring.

Cas groans Dean's names into his mouth, licking and sucking his lips while he continues to rock back and forth in an uneven rhythm. Dean's hips buck up against him, seeking more friction, "_Unh_, Cas, please." He begs.

"Patience, princess." Cas huffs against his saliva soaked lips. He brings a hand to Dean's jaw, angling his head back into a heady kiss. Dean tugs at Cas' hair, wanting to hear his sounds. He's rewarded with a broken groan into his mouth. At this point their not even kissing, just panting against each others lips.

Cas slides hotly against him, the friction is driving Dean insane. Judging by Cas' hips faltering he's pretty close himself. Dean's toes curl as the heat builds with the thrusting of Cas' erratic movements. There's a damp patch on the Batman logo of his pants from his leaking cock, and he thinks he's going to come from that sight alone. "Ah, Cas, I'm gonna- _unh_- Fuck, Cas, I-!" Dean whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut against the oncoming flood of heat.

"Fuck. You're so beautiful like this- _unhgh_- fuck, yes." Cas pants, rolling his crotch lewdly against Dean's. He's barely holding on to his last remaining thread of sanity until Cas purrs against his lips, "Come for me, Dean. Cream those Batman pants for me."

White lights flash past his eyes, stars filling his vision as he comes with a final jerk of his hips. His body feels like molten, he's consumed with a sated pleasure that overrides the ache in his muscles. He watches Cas drowsily as he grunts and comes not long after Dean, his legs shake on either side of him. His breathing harsh against Dean's lips as he too comes down from his high. Dean' never seen him look so… beautiful.

And he would totally have his balls for ever saying that to him. But Dean's scrambled brain thinks it's a great a idea. "Y'beautiful." He slurs dreamily.

Cas' chuckle comes out a little strained, "Look who's talkin', princess." Before Dean can voice his protests Cas places a sweet peck of Dean's battered lips, efficiently shutting him up. Dean feels sticky and gross, but his limbs are too heavy to move. He yelps when Cas suddenly swoops down to pick him up bridal style. He clings to his warm neck, and inhales his heady scent. Cas pulls back the covers and unceremoniously dumps Dean back onto the bed. "Hey!" He says weakly.

Cas only answers with his trademark smirk as he climbs in next to him. Dean rolls to the other side of the bed giving him room to lay down. Cas turns off the light and brings the comforter over them. Dean rests his head on the pillow, feeling drowsy and heavy. He wants to reach over and snuggle up to Cas, but he's not sure if Cas is the cuddling type.

Once again, Cas surprises him when he breathes out a sigh, of what Dean guesses to be, resignation and rolls over to face Dean. Cas doesn't say a word as he_resituates _Dean so he's facing the wall, he just wraps his arms around his waist, cocooning Dean with his warmth, and presses a soft kiss to the back of Dean's neck, saying nothing.

Dean wants to talk about what's just happened but his body wins over, and lulls him to a sated sleep. His last conscious thought is that he wishes he had got to taste Cas' nipple piercing.

* * *

**A/N: A very very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed etc. so far :') and a bundle of love to my beta; Alice for putting up with me hehe xoxo**


	5. One More Yesterday

_letting people down is my thing, baby_  
_find yourself a new gig_  
_this town ain't big enough for two of us_  
_I don't have the right name_  
_or the right looks_  
_but I have twice the heart_

* * *

The first thing Dean notices is the discomfort in his underwear. He grimaces at the sticky mess, internally berating himself for having a wet dream like some pre-pubescent boy.

He forces his eyes open, squinting in preparation for the oncoming rays from the sun. When the pain doesn't come his eyes snap open in confusion. He glances at the unfamiliar window, seeing it shrouded in a grey light, rain softly pitter-patters against the glass; which brings a flood of last nights memory with it.

The party.

Rain.

Cas.

_Kissing Cas._

Dean suddenly feels very awake. The memory of what happened_ after_ the kiss he can recall with crystal clarity. He looks over his shoulder as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake Cas, Dean had always assumed he would be grumpy in the mornings.

At first he feels relief but he can't stop the way his stomach rolls with disappointment when he sees that Cas' space is empty. Every self-loathing thought rushes to Dean's head, reminding him that he should have never let anyone see past the barrier he'd always put up. He buries his face in the pillow, feeling humiliated and used. Dean hates himself for inhaling as much of Cas' scent from the pillow as he can like the stupid pining idiot he is.

He hears the soft click of the bedroom door being closed, his heart picks up pace and his shoulders tense, waiting for Cas to laugh at him for being so stupid and naïve. Dean feels the bed dip as Cas lowers himself next to him. Well, at least that's where he thought Cas was going to lay until he feels the weight of a very warm male body laid across his back. Cas is like a leopard, all slim but well muscled. Just thinking about it makes Dean's insides melt.

"_Umf_." Dean turns his head so he isn't suffocated by the pillow, or maybe that was Cas' plan all along. "Cas!" He exclaims breathlessly. "What the hell are you doing? I can't breathe, man!" He struggles weakly to shove Cas off, because really, Dean isn't exactly hating this.

Dean feels Cas' breath brush the back of his neck, he barely suppresses a shiver of pleasure. "Shh. I'm very sensitive in the mornings." Cas grumbles, his voice a deeper rumble than usual.

Dean grins to himself, pleased he'd made the right assumption earlier.

"Yeah, vampires are like that." Dean gripes.

He feels the press of dry lips on his neck. "Mmm."

Dean closes his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that one simple kiss brings. He manages to rein in a little bit of sanity he has left to reply. "I don't know if you can tell, but there is an actual human body under you."

Slender fingers card through his hair, warm lips trace the freckles under his ear. "Oh believe me, I can tell." Cas chuckles roughly, his voice still laced with sleep.

Dean rolls his eyes, but can't stop the flush of warmth that rushes to his cheeks. "Can you flirt some other time when you're _not_ crushing my lungs?" He grunts when Cas tugs on his hair before letting go and rolling off. Dean frowns at the loss of heat, hating himself for being so awkward in these situations where he mentally fumbles and blurts out something ridiculous.

Cas sighs like answering him is a heavy burden. "You talk a lot in the morning."

Dean stares at the muscles in Cas' back that ripple as he moves off the bed and heads towards his dresser. Dean swallows hard, grasping at the few remaining thoughts he has left to distract himself from doing something that would indubitably embarrass himself further. He dazedly watches as Cas methodically puts a row of silver rings onto his right ear.

"You wear earrings?" Dean asks as he sits up and rests his elbows on his knees. His memories of Cas are surprisingly shallow, only showing him images of his face or body. Dean is almost disgusted at himself for not paying attention to every detail. After all; today could be the last time Cas would want to see him.

Cas looks at the mirror on his dresser and smirks at Dean's perplexed reflection. "Too busy getting lost in my eyes, Winchester?" In the other ear he pierces several more silver hoops in an assortment of sizes.

Dean is about to scoff but stops short when realising there's something different about Cas. He looks him over while he's distracted by putting on his rings – also which Dean can't recall him wearing before – and spots what's so different.

_Cas' eyes are free of eyeliner_.

Without his eyes being accentuated with thick coloured lines that look fierce and intimidating, his face appears soft and inviting instead. A part of Dean falls to pieces at how young and vulnerable he looks. He almost feels uncomfortable seeing Cas this exposed, like he's spying on a private moment.

Cas catches Dean's enamoured gaze but quickly averts his eyes, pretending to search for something. He goes to his bedside table where most of the surface is covered with an array of bracelets. Once Cas has put some on; he picks up his lighter from his discarded jeans, twirling and fiddling with it absently while he looks for his cigarettes.

Dean stays silent throughout it all, wondering if anyone could be swapped with an alien in under two minutes. Because Cas is never uncomfortable, never uncertain in his words or actions. Everything with Cas is in the moment, Hell, he'd have a heart attack before apologising. He never second guesses himself. Dean admires him a lot for that, wishing he could do the same.

He hears a quiet "scared me for a minute there, you assholes" when Cas finds his half finished pack of cigarettes under the bed. Cas slips his tight black jeans on from yesterday, Dean had always thought Cas poured himself into those jeans, but in reality he just does a series cute little jumps and shimmies to pull them up.

Cas uncharacteristically fumbles with opening the window, letting in a slight breeze that makes Dean's skin prickle. Cas leans his elbows on the ledge and takes a leisurely drag, before realising it into the swirl of the wind. Dean idly plays with Cas' bracelet that's long made it's home on Dean's wrist.

"Cas, you okay?" He internally rolls his eyes at how ridiculous that question always is.

A light breeze extinguishes Cas' cigarette, his hands tremble as he tries to re-light it. He takes a deep pull of smoke and blows it harshly out his nose and mouth with a wry smile. "Not really." He responds dully, eyes focused outside the window.

Dean's insecurities grip hold of him again, the dark clouds gather around his mind, creating a storm of self-loathing. His cheeks burn with a mix of shame and anger. "Is this about last night?" He says tersely.

Cas stubs out his cigarette and dispossess it out the window. He turns to face Dean and fixes him with an unwavering, unemotional stare. "You're somewhat desirable around here. Much more than you think."

The statement throws Dean completely off, probably the reaction Cas was hoping for. He grasps weakly for something to say but all he can muster up is "Uh?"

Cas smirks and walks over to his side of the bed. He places a soft hand on Dean's arm and sits unceremoniously at the edge of the mattress, leaning his body against Dean's side. He smells like nicotine and eucalyptus shower gel. He's strangely warm despite his earlier hanging out of the window.

"I'm not the only one who wants a piece of you, princess." Cas chuckles softly and Dean is acutely aware of his fingers when they start tracing patterns using the freckles on his forearm.

"I'm not a piece of fucking cake." Dean growls and snatches his arm away. Cas looks unfazed and rests his hand on Dean's knee instead.

Cas gives a lazy smirk, which looks a lot less intimidating without his lined eyes. "No." He agrees. "But you are delicious." He leans forward and nips Dean's earlobe causing him to give an embarrassing yelp.

Dean takes a slow, steadying breath. "This is getting off topic." He huffs, ignoring the intensity of Cas' ocean blue eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you're the classic boy next door..." He glances at Dean's Batman underwear, Dean blushes and pulls the the comforter over his lap. "...except not."

"Not exactly everyone finds superheroes sexy." He mumbles.

Cas shakes his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "_Please _like Batman is a superhero."

Dean promptly ignores that. "Do you actually have a point here or...?" He trails off when Cas lightly bumps their foreheads together, knocking any conscious thought from his mind. Breathing the same air as Cas never fails to make Dean feel intoxicated.

"I happen to know someone who is in love with you." Cas whispers, shattering the daze Dean was occupied in.

"And who pray tell is stupid enough to think that?" Dean drawls out, internally scoffing at the idea that anyone could fall for someone as pathetic as himself.

Cas' lips twitch in an almost smile. "Michael."

Doubt clouds Dean's mind. "You're kidding." He laughs at the absurdity of it. "Michael is so straight―"

"―so straight that he practically begged me for a hand job." Cas snorts. "And called out your name when he shot his load. At first I was offended, but then I met you and it all became very clear." He smirks and ruffles Dean's hair. "You're a real catch."

Dean frowns and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "When was this?" He demands.

Cas' eyes flick over Dean's body, appearing disinterested but his eyes gave him away. "His end of the summer party." Cas says, his eyes following Dean as he yanks his cold jeans on.

As usual, Cas' answer makes Dean pissed off and confused. His brain scrambles trying to comprehend everything. Except for one thought he couldn't shake, "Wait. So you had sex with Michael?" He says in disbelief, feeling stupidly betrayed even though they didn't even know each other at the time.

Cas shrugs one shoulder. "It wasn't sex."

"But still." Dean clumsily pulls his shirt over his head then scans the room for his sweater.

Cas grins lewdly. "It was just a hand job, Dean. We were barely conscious."

"If he's so 'in love with me' then why is he being such a dick lately?" He says, hurriedly changing the subject because he so didn't want the images.

Where the hell is his sweater?

Cas gives him a look. "Dean, seriously."

It suddenly clicks. Dean almost laughs at the thought of Michael being mean to him because he _likes _him. What is this kindergarten? "Michael's not really the type for the 'bully the guy you have a crush' on game." Dean explains.

"Wow, do you even know him?" Cas laughs cruelly.

Something snaps inside Dean. "Do _you_?"

"Apparently more than you." Cas challenges.

Fuck the sweater. Dean needs to get out of here like _now._

"Well good for you."

Cas stands from the bed, looking annoyingly unruffled by all this. "No wonder Michael's resorted to children's games when you're acting like one."

"Fuck you, Cas."

Cas just rolls his eyes like Dean is some child stomping their feet in a tantrum for candy. "Just as I thought."

"What?" Dean asks through clenched teeth.

"You're jealous." Cas smiles, shuffling cautiously towards Dean. He blinks, but isn't deterred when Dean takes a step back. "You're crazy about me, Winchester. Admit it."

Anger and pure rage consumes him. "So this was a test? Pressing my buttons to see which one would make me blow?" Dean tightens his fists, wanting to punch that sly grin of his face but at the same time wanting to grab him and kiss the living daylights out of him. Everything about Cas is infuriating, and the fact that Cas knows it just angers Dean even more.

"Which button does that again?" Cas says innocently.

"Fuck you, Cas." Dean repeats. He hates every part of himself that wants to stay, but right now Dean needs to go home and get a clear head. And to add insult to injury; he's sure his mom's flipping out already for him not coming home last night.

"You're adorable." Cas mocks.

Dean's blood boils. Suddenly this wasn't about Michael any more. "Can't you take anything seriously?" Dean agitatedly runs his hand through his hair.

"I think the problem here is you're taking this _too_ seriously."

"Well to me this is very serious. But as usual you couldn't give a flying fuck about me or my feelings." Dean blurts out before taking a ragged breath, barely holding back the tears. He was _not _going to let Cas see him cry, damnit.

Cas regards Dean with cool eyes like he's a stranger. Which he practically is. "I'm really not seeing your problem here." Cas says calmly.

"And that just says everything right there."

"That's your opinion. Personally; I think you're just playing up because you thought you were a special snowflake."

Humiliation grips Dean, shaking him to his core. "Are we even talking about the same thing? I don't care about what you did with Michael," Not exactly the truth, but he's not completely lying either, "I just want you to give a damn for once. If not for me, then maybe for yourself. You just don't give a shit about anything Cas. You can't go through life putting up this barrier and expect everyone to work around it." Dean exclaims.

Cas remains unmoving, his face devoid of any emotion. "Maybe you should listen to your own advice."

Rage dissolves into anger, and the anger fades into resolve. Dean can see this isn't worth wasting his breath on. He'd known Cas would want him to leave, he guesses Cas initiated this fight to make it somehow easier for him. Dean wishes he could have the same cold demeanour when it comes to stuff like this.

"Maybe." Dean mutters. He gives a sad smile and heads for the door.

Cas says nothing and let's Dean leave without any protest. Dean tries not to feel disappointed but by the time he reaches the gate, his unwanted tears from earlier fell in neat, warm lines. He would have given everything to Cas, but now he knows he wouldn't ever of gotten the same in return.

Feeling defeated, Dean stalks off to find where he parked his car. He pointedly avoids looking at Michael's house across the street, feeling like it was silently mocking him.

Dean finds the Impala faithfully waiting for him two cars down. The rumbling purr of the engine supplies the silence with a distraction. Normally this would be a welcomed comfort, but all he can think about is honest blue eyes and a killer smile. He scrubs his eyes dry and drives out of there like a bat out of Hell.

Dean knows one thing for sure; he won't be making this mistake again.

* * *

**A/N: So, so sorry for the delay! I hope it won't be this long again for the next part to be posted. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed etc. you're awesome :) **


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